


Softly, Gently

by deripmaver



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alpha Damen (Captive Prince), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bath Sex, Bathing/Washing, Cunnilingus, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Laurent (Captive Prince), Omega Verse, Penis In Vagina Sex, Pregnant Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, first half angst and feels second half smut, just vague mentions of what happened in canon, omegas have vaginas, this is much less angsty than the other stuff i've written lmfao, unhealthy eating habits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26952562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deripmaver/pseuds/deripmaver
Summary: The minute Laurent passed beyond the threshold of their chambers, the door closed firmly behind them and two burly Kingsguard posted out front, he sunk to his knees with a shuddering gasp.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 243





	Softly, Gently

**Author's Note:**

> hello i guess im approaching horny hours faster than expected
> 
> don't worry, i'll be back with some soul crushing angst soon
> 
> i always give my omegas vaginas because i love writing porn with vaginas, i just find it so much hotter. real lesbian hours if u up click like lmfao
> 
> enjoy!!!!

The minute Laurent passed beyond the threshold of their chambers, the door closed firmly behind them and two burly Kingsguard posted out front, he sunk to his knees with a shuddering gasp.

Damen’s heart plummeted nearly as fast, and he sunk beside him instinctually, teeth bared in a growl and body curled around Laurent’s in a protective grip. His hand went immediately to Laurent’s swollen belly, heavy over Laurent’s legs, and he let out a breath of relief at the dull thud of little kicks from within. Laurent grimaced, face white with pain and exhaustion, but he put his hand there to feel them as well.

“Laurent,” Damen murmured, releasing his pheromones into the atmosphere. “Laurent, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“I’m,” Laurent rasped, voice shivery and weak, like a silk thread snapped with a blade. He shuddered again and rested his head against Damen’s broad chest, panting. He closed his eyes.

“Call for the physician,” Damen snapped, opening the door a crack. “Now. _Now_!”

“There’s no need for all that,” Laurent groused into Damen’s chest, lips hovering over bare skin where the fabric didn’t cover.

Damen ignored him, as he always did when Laurent undersold his pain – it didn’t help that another shudder rippled through Laurent just then, and he closed his eyes with a little whimper, clenching his hands into Damen’s chiton.

Laurent felt the familiar slide of Damens arms around his back, under his knees – he was quiet, this time, when Damen picked him up bridal-style and carried him to their plush bed.

Despite his size, his massively bulging biceps and rippling back, Damen’s touch was tender and feather-light as he placed Laurent down and arranged the pillows beneath his whispy blonde head. He placed a kiss to Laurent’s forehead, to his lips, and then, further down, to the swell of his belly underneath his Veretian laces.

Laurent felt so much better, lying down. He closed his eyes and snuggled his shoulder blades underneath him, stretching just so as his limbs sank heavily into the feathery down of the mattress.

Damen smiled at him fondly, though his scent was still tinged lightly with distress. Laurent looked soft, angelic like this – his hair fell like golden silk onto the white pillows, his cheeks round and soft with pregnancy. He was so slim that his massive belly seemed to engulf him, rising and falling shallowly as the rippling pain left him.

The stressed lines in Laurent’s face smoothed, and he blinked at Damen fondly, hand rubbing his belly absently.

“That meeting,” Laurent huffed, “Went on for far too long.”

At last, Damen barked out a relieved laugh. How long was Laurent sitting in the meeting, body in pain, begging for it to be over but wielding the dual blades of solidifying his rule after his uncle’s death and being the first omega king of Vere in generations? If Laurent, already sneered at for his pregnancy, had asked to leave for his own health – even now, Damen thought sadly, Laurent was needing to run himself ragged just so that his kingdom would not turn on him.

Laurent’s expression was soft, though. He looked plump and content, the way a pregnant omega should, and Damen’s alpha purred and rumbled at the tender look of him. He was reminded again that behind the sharp, icy facade was someone gentle, sweet, and earnest. The utter unfairness, that Laurent had ever needed to pretend to be anything else.

Paschal came in without a word. Behind him, padding silently, eyes glassy and tired but with a spark not there all those months ago, came the little omega boy who had been beside the Regent at the trial. Etienne. He didn’t speak much, but his hands were firm and steady as Paschal directed him in the medicinal arts. A part of Paschal’s own atonement, Damen supposed.

“My King has been overexerting himself again, I presume?” Paschal sighed, shaking his head with a fond smile.

“When have I ever done that?” Laurent cocked his head to the side, a wry smile on his face.

Paschal allowed him a private look, built on their shared history, before becoming clipped and businesslike. “Any bleeding?”

Laurent shook his head, eyes blank. His eyes flit to between his legs, to the bed, where he sometimes woke from nightmares of the baby bleeding out of him in the middle of the night, his body rejecting his and Damen’s child.

Paschal smiled sympathetically and said, “Shirt up please, your Highness.”

Laurent shuddered. He hated being exposed – the examinations inherent to pregnancy were intimate, an exercise in humiliation and vulnerability. Before, he’d worn his tight-laced Veretian clothing like armor up to his pale neck, and now it needed to be loose around his belly, around his chest, around his legs.

He pulled his shirt up, revealing the pale swell beneath it, streaked with pink stripes that blistered against his white skin. Paschal would make this quick, Laurent knew, but in the moment his eyes went blank and he turned to steel and marble on the bed.

Damen squeezed Laurent’s hand, warm and firm. Grounding.

“It’s just us,” Damen said, “Just you and me and the doctors.”

Laurent let out a shaky breath as Paschal placed a metal horn to Laurent’s stomach, flat end against the swell, tapered end in his ear.

Paschal pulled back with a smile. “Two little heartbeats, still loud and clear.”

Laurent sunk further into the mattress in relief. Damen let out a breath, blinking rapidly. The twins inside him, still safe. His body was capable of creating life, a new life, for him and Damen.

“Now,” Paschal said, gaze turning somber, “Your Highness, when was the last time you ate?”

Laurent froze. His soft smile stiffened on his face, and he turned his head, an ashamed blush coloring his sickly cheeks.

Paschal sighed, long and loud. That was enough of an answer for him.

He said, “I’ll tell the guards to bring some fruit, bread, and fatty butter and cheese.” His gaze turned to Damen, sharp and commanding – the physician attending his pregnant mate the only one able to speak to the King of Akielos in this manner, “Make sure he eats.”

Damen nodded, sharp, pointed.

When Paschal swept out the carved doors, there was a heavy silence.

Laurent saw Damen about to open his mouth and speak, and he cut him off before he could, snapping, “Are you going to use your alpha commands on me to make me eat?”

His expression was raw, exposed, feral. His lips were curled, exposing rows of sharp teeth, the same way he’d shrunk around himself and snarled up at his uncle at the trial, sickness and pregnancy thick in his scent, like the omegas of pre-history.

“I would never,” Damen murmured.

It was hard for Laurent, Damen knew. Barely out from under his uncle’s control, barely twenty one years old, now suddenly responsible for a kingdom and the two growing babies inside of him. He’d lived so many years in terror – unable to eat for fear of being poisoned, unable to sleep without a knife under his pillow, every move a part in a greater chess game where losing meant his life. Now, even free, he barely knew how to care for himself tenderly, let alone a child.

His alpha was not happy about the fact that Laurent’s behavior was endangering their children, and it grumbled now like it had when he learned Laurent had been pregnant during the okton, at the kingsmeet – that he’d been ready to die with their child before his uncle.

They weren’t simply creatures of instinct, though, and Damen understood how Laurent’s mind had molded itself in response to his tortured adolescence, and how despite that when Laurent decided to keep the child he’d committed wholeheartedly to it, with the same sharp, steely mind he had honed for battle strategy.

It didn’t mean Laurent didn’t still hurt, though, and it didn’t mean Laurent had stopped needing help recovering from the years of abuse. Damen, as his alpha, should have noticed how Laurent was pushing around his food that morning, not really eating it.

The food arrived quickly and quietly.

Laurent stared at the tray of food in front of him like the thought of eating any of it was an insurmountable task. He snuggled deeper under the covers and looked away, lips set in a soft pout – another expression that Damen alone got to see.

When Damen peeled the orange, a sweet, tangy spray diffused throughout the air. He split the slices one by one, finger slick with its sweet juice, while Laurent huffed on the bed. He took one between his lips and chewed slowly, savoring the tartness, smiling as if to say _see? Not poisoned._

“Laurent,” Damen crooned, leaning in for a kiss with juice still on his tongue.

Laurent softened. His eyes fluttered shut.

Damen leaned in close, until he could feel the heat radiating from Laurent’s flushed cheeks. Laurent’s lips parted, soft and plush and pink, waiting for Damen to capture them with his warm heat-

And Damen stuffed a slice of orange right into Laurent’s mouth.

Laurent spluttered, jolting back in shock and anger. He huffed, affronted, half-chewing half-snarling at Damen as he decided whether to spit the orange out and yell at him or to swallow. In the end, the orange slice went down his throat thickly, and Damen couldn’t help the way his tongue darted out as he watched the bob of Laurent’s throat.

“You _brute_ ,” Laurent snapped, beating his fists gently (so gently, no intent to hurt – if Laurent meant to hurt him, he absolutely was capable of it), “You animal, you duplicitous snake-”

Damen laughed, white teeth and sweet breath and dark curls, “I learned from the best.”

Laurent’s face went hot and pink with rage, and he spluttered again. Laurent a few months ago would have snapped something truly hurtful at him, but along with his belly and his cheeks, his tongue towards Damen had softened too.

“I could chew your food for you and kiss it into your mouth,” Damen grinned, teasing, “How does that sound, my sweet little baby bird?”

“You’re disgusting,” Laurent snapped, and he rolled huffily and with some difficulty onto his side, his back towards Damen.

His pride was still wounded from Pascal scolding him for not eating. Behind the parted curtain of Laurent’s hair, Damen saw the mating bond mark at the nape of his neck, little pink specks seeming so visible against Laurent’s moon-white skin.

Damen put an orange in front of Laurent’s hands, nuzzling his nose and lips against that mating bond, rubbing Laurent’s belly with one hand. He slipped his hand beneath the loose bedshirt, purring softly, sensual and intimate but nothing more. His purrs rumbled through the bond, his hand firm and warm against Laurent’s belly.

Surrounded by Damen’s purring, comforting alpha presence, Laurent began hesitantly to peel the orange and put the slices into his mouth. His body relaxed, and Damen purred gentle words of encouragement into Laurent’s ear as he ate more and more.

“My good, sweet omega, getting so strong for our pups,” Damen murmured. “Such a good job. Such a wonderful mother.”

Laurent flushed, a look in his eyes that said he wanted to believe Damen but couldn’t, but he didn’t stop. He even managed some bread, cheese, and butter, curled on his side on the bed, with Damen rubbing his belly with his calloused hands. Such broad hands, honed for battle, so gentle with Laurent’s pregnant body.

Damen realized after a moment that Laurent had stopped eating. He peered over Laurent’s body to find Laurent’s eyes closed, his lips parted in sleep. Low, rumbling purrs rippled through Laurent’s body, and Damen smiled at the soft sounds of his omega at peace.

He kissed Laurent’s cheek, soft and round and pink, and instructed a servant to take away the remaining food, save for the oranges.

Laurent could eat all the fruit in the entire damn palace, Damen thought, if it meant he kept himself and his babies healthy.

* * *

It was quiet, in the baths.

There were shadows in here, echoing in the warm, wet light that lingered on the walls – but they weren’t quite as long as the first time he’d come here, after the trial. After everything. Damen allowed himself to sink into the hot water, let it soak into his aching muscles and weary bones. Laurent’s difficult pregnancy was taking more of a toll on Damen than he’d realized – the ache of knowing Laurent had thought he would die with their children inside him, the fear of remembering that childbirth was what had taken his own mother away from him.

Damen dreamed of the family he and Laurent could make, but the thought terrified him, too.

There was a gentle splash of water and Damen was pulled out of his ruminations by Laurent, walking unsteadily into the baths, but with a gentle smile on his face.

“My alpha has abandoned me,” he teased, one hand gripping the wall.

“Never,” Damen said determinedly, far more determinedly than perhaps Laurent’s teasing warranted – but Laurent flushed all the same.

Laurent undressed, perfunctorily. Damen was used to slaves and pets and other Akielons who saw sensuality as a performance, who honed their craft in eroticism and presented it before him like a gift. It was somewhat refreshing to see Laurent, who dressed and bathed before him in an entirely utilitarian way, each stroke of a cloth or undoing of a lace purely purposeful.

Also, though, Laurent simply did not know how to perform sensuality – he was sensual, and warm, and enthusiastic as anyone Damen had ever bedded, but in a way that came purely from his own heart, his own sense of feeling in the moment. It was innocent, that way. Innocent and erotic all at the same time.

It made Damen’s heart hurt to think about why, but he took to his role both as Laurent’s alpha and his tutor in the bedroom _arts_ with great seriousness. And after all, it wasn’t as though Laurent needed to undress sensually to be sensual to Damen. Not with his body an expanse of pale skin, pinkening only at his nipples, at the stripes across his swollen belly, and in that little sliver between his legs where wet lips peeked out.

Laurent sat himself beside Damen at the edge of the sunken bath, dipping his legs into the hot water. It wasn’t safe for him to submerge as Damen did, but his toes caressed Damen’s arm gently, and Damen shifted closer to Laurent, who gripped his belly with his usual raw nervousness and unsurety.

Damen kissed Laurent’s belly again, feeling the breathless laugh rush through Laurent’s body.

“How are you feeling?” Damen asked.

“Better,” Laurent sighed.

“How are your ankles?” Damen murmured against his skin.

Laurent shrugged. “Fine, I suppose.”

Damen frowned. That was the nervous deflection Laurent always retreated to when he was in pain – well, that was alright. He could still care for Laurent.

He picked up the wet, soapy cloth and pulled one of Laurent’s slender feet out of the water, kissing the ankle, kissing up the calf until his lips touched Laurent’s dry knee. He pressed his thumb and forefinger into the swollen muscles and tendons around the joint, massaging it gently.

Laurent let out a low, sensual moan. His thighs were thick enough with the additional weight, and his belly swollen enough, that they obscured his wet heat. Even so, Damen felt his cock stir beneath the water at the sounds Laurent made.

He sounded so relaxed, so blissed out, head tilting backwards to expose the pale column of his neck. How often did Laurent get to experience pleasure, wholly focused on him, on his comfort? Damen drew his hands up and down Laurent’s calf, kneading, squeezing the hard muscle in his legs, then drawing the cloth up and down them to make soapy swirls against his skin.

“Damen,” Laurent whimpered as Damen set his left foot back in the water and continued his ministrations on his right. “D-Damen, I-”

“Does it feel good?” Damen purred, mouthing at Laurent’s knee.

“Yes,” Laurent gasped. “Yes. I’m,” He bit his lip, suddenly shy. “Damen, I’m wet.”

He said it so simply, with an air of surprise, as though he still couldn’t believe his body was capable of feeling this way, of reacting this way.

“I can see that,” Damen teased, splashing Laurent’s leg with the bath water.

“You fucker,” Laurent hissed, narrowing his eyes, “You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” Damen teased again. “You might have to show me.”

There was a gleam in Laurent’s eye then, shyness dissipating. Laurent had approached fucking Damen with such gusto that his voracity had been shocking. He’d begun that night at Ravenel desperately clinging to control before letting Damen lead him to pleasure he’d never experienced before, and now, months later, he was comfortable enough to take some measure of control back.

Laurent parted his thighs slowly, cheeks pink from a combination of arousal, of shyness, of heat from the steamy air. Damen continued to massage and wash his calf and ankle absently, eyes fixed on the slow parting of lips between Laurent’s legs, belly still hanging heavily over them.

Gods, Laurent hadn’t been lying – he was wet. Glistening slick dripped from his pink folds onto the stone floor of the bath, gorgeous and obscene. From between his parted legs came Laurent’s heady scent, warm and spicy and unmistakably him. Damen’s alpha growled.

Damen licked his lips, the calf forgotten beneath the water again. He breathed, “What would you like me to do about that?”

Laurent’s eyes glittered. He said, “Attend me, my love.”

Damen barked out a laugh. He loved Laurent so, so much.

“Lie back for me, sweetheart,” Damen breathed. Laurent did so, with some difficulty, lowering onto his elbows before falling all the way down onto his back. Damen gripped his plump hips, fingers clenching into his ass, and pulled him forward so that his ass was just barely propped up on the edge of the baths. His legs rested on Damen’s shoulders, and Damen nosed around that wet cunt, not touching but near enough that Laurent could sense their closeness.

Laurent’s belly heaved as he panted, toes curling in anticipation. His body arced to the side so that he could give Damen a deceptively shy smile, pupils blown wide and black, before turning to gasp and pant up at the frescoed ceiling above him.

Damen moved his hands to Laurent’s pink lips, pulling them apart with his thumbs to expose the clenching, dripping hole within, to expose the twitching pink bud that seemed to ache and strain underneath its hood, desperate to be touched.

“Do it,” Laurent pleaded, voice ragged, “Damen, please, put your mouth on me.”

How could Damen refuse such an earnest request? His tongue flicked out, lapping teasingly at the bud, enough to draw a cry from Laurent that echoed in the cavernous baths. He couldn’t tease any longer, then, and he engulfed Laurent’s cunt with his mouth with a ravenous exuberance, tongue lapping attentively at Laurent’s clit.

“Damen,” Laurent gasped and writhed, “D-Damen, oh god, yes, right there, just like that-”

Laurent’s clit swelled gently against Damen’s tongue, the taste and scent of him enough to drive Damen mad. He loved the softness of omegas, how their swelling was subtle, their arousal indicated by their bodies slickening and opening up.

Damen teased one finger inside Laurent’s relaxed, meltingly hot cunt, his tongue not letting up for an instant against Laurent’s swollen red clit. He stroked Laurent’s walls tenderly, cock hardening at the little mewls and moans Laurent was letting out. His belly _quivered_ , fat and heavy, pussy lips swollen and flushed in his pregnancy.

Laurent needed to be opened up _slow_. Only once his first finger was coated with warm, wet slick did Damen add a second, stroking up in that way that drove Laurent crazy. The taste of him, the sound of him – Laurent’s slick coated Damen’s chin which only made him want to push his tongue in harder, to take Laurent’s clit into his mouth and suckle on it _hard_.

Laurent wailed. Damen knew from experience that he needed lots of stimulation on his clit to stay relaxed enough for penetration by anything, but if he could, the combined lap of Damen’s tongue and caress of his fingers would bring him to a crashing, bucking orgasm that had him gushing all over the bathroom floor.

He angled his fingers so they went deeper, picked up the pace with his tongue. Laurent’s legs were trembling against Damen’s shoulder, his pulse beating through the meat of his quivering thighs.

Laurent’s clit twitched.

“Damen,” Laurent gasped, tears in his eyes, “Damen, fuck, I’m coming, I’m, fuck, _fuck_ -”

Slick coated Damen’s fingers as he licked and sucked Laurent’s throbbing clit through his orgasm. His wet pussy tightened and contracted around Damen’s fingers, Damen caressing him with a firm wrist but gentle, skillful fingers.

Laurent arched up, swollen belly quivering, crying and writhing beneath Damen’s tongue. His legs trembled, sweat dripping down the curve of his thighs. Damen didn’t let up, didn’t stop until Laurent collapsed back onto the tile floor, panting and gasping and letting out little whimpers.

Damen smiled at him, kissing his belly once again, since he couldn’t reach Laurent’s face. His own hardness ached beneath the water, and he gripped himself with a groan.

“Don’t you dare,” Laurent hissed, eyes narrowed, nearly black with his lust-blown pupils. “Damen, don’t you dare get yourself off like that. Put it in me, please.”

Damen grinned. There was a ledge in the baths that he stood on, hardness gripped in his hands, and he slid his slick cockhead against Laurent’s warm, plush cunt.

“You want me?” Damen asked, teasing once again.

“Yes,” Laurent groaned, still trembling from his past orgasm, “Yes, fuck, please. Damen, make love to me.”

_Make love to me_.

How long ago had it been that Laurent hadn’t been able to say anything other than _fuck me_? That for him, sex was someone sticking their cock in him and thrusting until it was over? Sure, Damen and Laurent had fucked – rough, animal, Damen’s cock thrusting into Laurent’s wet cunt until he came deep inside him, Laurent’s walls spasming with orgasm around him – but they’d made love, too, soft and slow and tender.

Damen was confident, now, that Laurent knew there were multiple ways to chase pleasure as a couple – and so he’d give it to him willingly.

He’d make love to Laurent.

He’d _fuck_ him, and Laurent would love it.

Damen didn’t waste more time teasing beyond sliding his cock along Laurent’s wet folds, coating it with Laurent’s own slick. When he lined his cock up against Laurent’s tight, welcoming heat, Laurent let out a flushed gasp. His cunt clenched, his body relaxing deliberately, and Damen slid into him easily.

Fuck, Laurent was like _velvet_. His walls and dripping lips were plush and soft, drinking Damen in, their bodies fitting together perfectly.

Damen let out a long, panting breath, feeling Laurent clench around him. His legs locked around Damen’s low back, and even with his eyes glassy and cheeks flushed and hair damp with sweat and steam, he bit his lower lip tantalizingly as he drew Damen closer, until his hips were flush with Laurent’s body.

“Damen,” Laurent purred, rubbing his belly warmly – perhaps thinking of the night Damen had fucked those two babies into him.

“Laurent,” Damen gasped, and then he began to thrust.

Laurent cried out, arching his back. He reached up, fingers clenching on air, and Damen took his hand wonderingly.

Normally, Damen liked to lean over Laurent, capturing his whole body as he thrust deep into him. He liked to press their bodies as close as possible, broad shoulders surrounding Laurent’s lithe figure so that no one could get to him. Now, though, Laurent’s swollen belly quivered between them and kept them apart.

That was alright – it meant Damen got to look down at Laurent’s flushed face, his watery eyes, his cherry-red lips parted in ecstasy as Damen thrust into him.

Damen reached between Laurent’s legs to where they were joined and ran his rough thumb over his already sensitive pink bud.

“Damen!” Laurent yelped, jolting. Damen grinned and did it again, running his thumb in circles around Laurent’s clit. He loved playing with it, driving Laurent mad with pleasure. Before knowing Damen, Laurent hadn’t dared touch that part of himself, and now Damen delighted in being the one to bring him to orgasm after orgasm just from that sweet little bud at the point where his lips parted.

A secret part of him, too, loved when Laurent lazily fingered himself in the early morning, bringing himself to orgasm when he simply couldn’t wait for Damen to wake up. Sometimes Damen pretended to stay asleep just to let Laurent explore his own body.

Their hips slapped together, slick and wet with soap and sweat and the saliva still dripping from Laurent’s pussy. It was rhythmic, melodic, Laurent’s voice echoing throughout the baths like music. Damen wanted to hear it every day of his life, pitched high with happiness and pleasure.

It didn’t take long for Damen to feel the heat pooling in his gut. Laurent, clit already swollen and sensitive from his first orgasm, was writhing and moaning again as Damen ran his thumb relentlessly over it.

“I’m coming,” Laurent gasped, loud and unashamed, “I’m coming, I, oh-”

Damen rubbed his thumb faster against Laurent’s swollen clit. He fucked harder into that plush warmth, and Laurent tossed his head back and _howled_ as his second orgasm claimed him, clenching Damen close to him with his legs.

The contraction, the tightness, was enough to send Damen tumbling over the edge himself. There was a tight, taut feeling in his balls, a low pooling in his gut, and with a final gasp he spilled deep into Laurent’s cunt, painting his clenching walls with his seed.

He wasn’t in a rut, so he didn’t knot into Laurent – and when he rode out the last of his orgasm he only paused for a few moments before pulling his softening cock out of Laurent. Laurent’s hands were still clenched in his – he’d normally stay put longer, but he wanted to lean over the side of the bath where Laurent was lying, gasping in exhaustion.

Damen leaned in to kiss Laurent’s scrunched nose, placing his hand over Laurent’s cunt to stop him from feeling too abandoned, too empty. He could hold him there forever – but he slid his hand up from those wet folds to that beautiful, pink-striped swollen belly, so big and wonderful on Laurent’s thin frame.

“Hey,” Damen grinned.

Laurent smiled up at him through wet lashes, “You got me all dirty.”

“Good,” Damen said, leaning forward this time to kiss Laurent’s soft lips.

Laurent wriggled across the tile, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees. It was an obscene sight, Laurent’s puffy, swollen cunt pink and dripping with Damen’s cum as he maneuvered into a more comfortable position.

Damen couldn’t take his eyes off of it, nor the way Laurent’s belly hung heavily, nearly touching the floor.

Laurent caught his gaze, smirking. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to.

Eroticism still hung heavy in the air – Laurent had an easy sort of sensuality about him after sex, the way he wore it around him like a protective cloak. Damen couldn’t help but groan when he began to wash the sweat and sex from his body, bringing the cloth between his legs and cleaning the mess dripping down his thighs.

“I could do that for you,” Damen purred.

“If you do, I know you’ll cajole me into another round,” Laurent huffed, “And I need a nap.”

Damen hopped out with a grin, pressing his wet body to Laurent’s. His arms wrapped around him loosely, not hindering his movements, but still connecting them intimately. “As though you didn’t cajole me into another round last night.”

Laurent didn’t answer, but his lips curled into a small, private smile, just for the two of them. Then, his eyes became troubled, and he asked, “Damen… What was Egeria’s pregnancy like?”

Damen frowned, confused by the question. “It was fine I think, dad never-” And then it hit him, just why Laurent was asking. “Laurent, no.”

“Damen-”

“ _No_ ,” Damen said, more firmly. His alpha _growled_ , and his hands pressed firmly around Laurent’s belly, rubbing it protectively. Laurent’s hands, so much slimmer, cupped over his, cold and trembling. “No. You are healthy. You are strong. I _will not let you die_.”

As though that was something he could control. In truth, every time Laurent shuddered in pain, a stab of fear coursed through Damen, but Damen was a soldier and was expert in putting aside sad, scary things, locking them inside his head and never letting them out.

Laurent looked down. Damen, for need of something to do, poured warm water over Laurent’s soapy body. Soap and slick and come washed onto the floor, into the drain.

Laurent’s voice was feather-soft as he said, “I never even thought I would live this long. If I can bring your children into the world alive…”

“Laurent,” Damen said earnestly, “After the trial, you told me you did not want to keep the baby. I know… I know you said that then to push me away,” Laurent flushed, looking away, “But I meant what I said then. I love _you_. A life with your children will not be complete without you in it.”

A small smile played at Laurent’s lips. “I thought, at first, that it would be enough to bring your children into the world. That it didn’t matter whether I lived or died so long as I could do one thing right in my life. I don’t know if that’s true, though-”

“It’s _not_ -”

“Damen.”

Damen smiled sheepishly, kissing Laurent’s cheek. “Right, sorry.”

“I want to live,” Laurent said, eyes glittering, looking up into Damen’s face, “I want to raise our children. I want to live for a very, very long time, so I can love my children far beyond when I was loved.”

Damen kissed his cheek. “You’re loved now.”

Laurent blushed. “I know, I know. But for those long, miserable years…”

He trailed off. His hand covered Damen’s on his stomach, rubbing idly.

“I’m the king,” Laurent said, ever with the note of wonderment in his voice.

“You are,” Damen murmured, kissing the white column of his neck.

Against his hand, one of the babies kicked. Damen squeezed fondly, and Laurent melted back into him.


End file.
